


The Bentley is a little bitch

by juiceboxjellyfish



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Confessions, Crack, Crowley is a dumbass, Fluff and Crack, M/M, Other, Pining Crowley (Good Omens), The Bentley Ships It (Good Omens), and pre-armageddon't, but what else is new, post-armageddon't
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-05 17:21:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21212273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juiceboxjellyfish/pseuds/juiceboxjellyfish
Summary: Crowley's pretty sure the Bentley is sentient.The Bentley is pretty sure Crowley is in love with Aziraphale.It teases him about it.





	The Bentley is a little bitch

Crowley had suspected for about as long as he’d owned it that his car had some kind of sentience, but for many years this was nothing more than an odd feeling he’d get sometimes and promptly brush off. It was ridiculous – cars couldn’t actually be sentient. (What Crowley failed to consider in this otherwise highly rational dismissal was that this particular car was owned by an occult being. It never occurred to him that this fact might change the rules somewhat.) 

He continued to ignore the thought until the early 1970’s. Once Queen had released their first album, it became a lot harder for Crowley to convince himself that the Bentley was just like any other car. You see, Crowley quickly became aware ofthe band when his car started playing their songs for him despite his best efforts to listen to other music. And he really did try very hard to listen to other music – he never even bought any of Queen’s albums and yet they regularly appeared in his car, disguised as albums he actually had paid for. Crowley never disliked Queen’s music, but buying the same cassette tape seventeen times because it keeps inexplicably turning into a seemingly random collection of Queen songs would skew anyone’s opinion of the band at least slightly to the negative side – just from the sheer frustration now associated with it. This phenomenon should’ve been enough to erase any doubts from Crowley’s mind that the Bentley was at least slightly sentient but never having owned any other car, he had no proof that this wasn’t just something cars did. (It wasn’t.)

If the Bentley had stopped there, Crowley might have continued denying the possibility that there was anything abnormal about it. The Bentley, however, did not stop there. Once it had discovered (and grown attached to) Queen, it realised (to whatever extent cars can realise things) that it could use its newfound ability to do more than just mildly annoy its owner with its music taste. 

It took Crowley a while to notice what the Bentley was doing (it took Crowley a while to notice that the Bentley was doing something), once again because people (or demons, in this case. Are demons people?) don’t generally assume their cars are a) at all capable of doing things on their own and b) actually doing those things. It started quite subtly anyway. Every now and then, Crowley would start his car and find that it was playing a song (nearly always by Queen, regardless of what he was previously listening to) which fit his current situation oddly well. You can only dismiss something like that as a coincidence so many times. 

So maybe the Bentley was sentient. Why not? Crowley had seen weirder things. (Crowley _was_ a weirder thing.) Maybe his car was sentient, magical, and really into Queen. He could live with that. Or well, he probably could’ve – if it weren’t for the love songs. Once Crowley had gotten over the frustration of constantly having music picked for him (against his will) (by his _car_) he didn’t mind most of it all that much. What bothered him were the love songs. He was alright with his car being sentient (although he could not explain how exactly that was possible) but he was decidedly not alright with his car being sentient _and_ aware of his hopeless love for the angel Aziraphale. He thought he’d been pretty good at hiding it (after all, Aziraphale had yet to notice) but apparently it was so obvious that a_ car _(which really shouldn’t even be able to think) had figured it out.

(Crowley greatly overestimated his ability to hide his feelings. All you really needed to figure them out was half a brain and to have seen the pair together.) (Though to be fair, the Bentley did not have any part of a brain. Or eyes.) As if the fact that the car knew wasn’t bad enough, it also seemed to be teasing him about it. After _You’re My Best Friend_ was released in 1975, Crowley spent several months taking the bus everywhere, because the car radio seemed to switch to it mid-song as soon as he as much as thought of Aziraphale.

At some point in the 1980’s, the Bentley left Crowley alone for nearly three weeks. He was using this freedom to listen to _Pale Blue Eyes_ by The Velvet Underground and torture himself thinking of Aziraphale when the car decided it had given him enough rest (if he didn’t want to be teased about it, he really should stop daydreaming so much about the angel, the Bentley thought) and switched to _Fat Bottomed Girls. _Crowley promptly drove into a ditch. Miraculously both the demon and the car made it out without a scratch, but the Bentley never played _Fat Bottomed Girls_ again – most likely out of self preservation. The Bentley had always been decent enough not to pull anything like that when Aziraphale was actually in the car, but after that incident Crowley hesitated turn the radio on when driving him anywhere, this too out of self preservation.

The incidents became more frequent as armageddon drew nearer, most notably when Aziraphale convinced Crowley to give a completer stranger who’d hit him with her bike a lift and the damned car played _Bicycle Race_ the whole duration of the ride (which luckily was not that long). Since he couldn’t exactly say “sorry about that, my car is sentient and has a terrible sense of humour”, Crowley had to accept that this girl would always think he was the kind of person who hit bikers with his car (though actually, _she_ hit _him_) and then gave them lifts home, forcing them to listen to songs about bicycles. 

“…and when I’m off in the stars, I won’t even think about you!”, Crowley shouted. He knew it wasn’t true. He had spent six thousand years thinking about Aziraphale and there was absolutely no chance he would be able to stop now just because the angel had hurt him. He wanted nothing more than to stay with Aziraphale and somehow get him to agree to come, and yet he climbed into the car and slammed the door. As he drove off, the car radio started itself. 

“Save me, save me, save me”, Freddie Mercury sang. “I can’t face this life alone”

“Yeah, rub it in why don’t you?”, Crowley muttered, but he didn’t switch the radio off. Though he would never admit it, this reassurance of his car’s sentience made him feel just a little less alone.

Until it followed the song up with _Love Of My Life_. At that point it was honestly just rude. 

When Crowley drove the Bentley through a wall of fire, he was too busy trying to prevent an impending apocalypse to think about the fact that his car was, unlike most other cars (unlike every other car, actually), sentient. Fortunately, it was still just a car and did not have nerves or pain receptors and was therefore only emotionally hurt by the demon’s oversight. Unfortunately, it did explode soon after, which is a difficult thing to recover from. Generally speaking. Having access to an antichrist helps a lot. (Crowley was amazed to find that Adam had included the car’s sentience when restoring it, as he had no way of knowing about it. This was because Crowley still hadn’t figured out that the sentience never depended on the car itself, but on its owner.)

Once what was supposed to be armageddon had passed, Crowley and Aziraphale found themselves meeting a lot more frequently. Both heaven and hell knew about their fraternising and had already tried to have them executed without success, so they saw no reason not to. They fed ducks, had dinner, and went on walks through the city. On this particular evening, Crowley was hanging out in Aziraphale’s book shop, scaring off customers. (He did this quite a lot – he had a very clever tactic he liked to call “being a gigantic snake”. It was nearly always successful.) The door slammed shut behind a particularly terrified one, muffling the sound of her screams. Aziraphale appeared from the other side of a shelf and started putting her dropped books back. 

“Thank you dear”, he said. “It really seemed like she was intending to buy these, and I’m quite fond of them… Time to close the shop for today, don’t you think?”

“SssSssssSSSSSsssss”, Crowley hissed. 

“What was that?”, Aziraphale asked.

“Definitely”, Crowley repeated, having returned to his humanoid form. “I’m starving. Care to join me for dinner?” 

“That sounds lovely!”

As Aziraphale neither knew how to drive nor had a car, they stepped into the Bentley. (Technically speaking Crowley didn’t know how to drive either, he just hadn’t noticed. He was also more comfortable lying to the police about having a driver’s license.) 

The radio turned itself on before Crowley even touched the gas pedal. 

“_I can dim the lights and sing you songs full of sad things_

_we can do the tango just for two_”

It took Crowley a moment to process the sound, and another to realise what was about to come.

“_I can serenade and gently play on your heartstri-_“ Crowley tried to skip to the next track. It accomplished nothing. 

“Y’know what, you don’t want listen to this. I should just…” he switched the radio off. “…turn that off. Not your thing anyway. Bebop.”

“Ah”, Aziraphale nodded. “Wait, I thought you said nobody called it bebop!”

“No-one does, angel. Anyway, where do you want to-“

The radio turned back on. Crowley turned it off again.

“Sorry about that, don’t know what happened there. Now-“

The radio turned back on again, and Crowley could’ve sworn it had gotten louder. 

“_Ooh love_”, it sang “_ooh loverboy_”

Crowley turned beet red. Refusing to look at Aziraphale, he tried turning the radio off one more time. It turned back on. It had definitely gotten louder. 

“What’s going on?”, Aziraphale asked.

“No idea”, Crowley lied. The volume increased. There was a moment of silence (from Crowley and Aziraphale. The car was not even remotely silent.) which felt extremely drawn out. Crowley, still refusing to even glance at the angel, was desperately trying to think of a way out of the situation. (Cancel dinner and get out of the car? Pretend like nothing’s happening? Rip the whole radio out?) He decided, like he so often did when it came to Aziraphale-related issues, to ignore the problem. 

“So. Where d’you wanna go?”

Aziraphale stared at him in disbelief. 

“Really, Crowley?”

“What?”

“There’s clearly something going on here and-“ he raised his voice, trying to make himself heard over the increasingly loud music “-I want to know what!”

“I don’t know, angel! I can’t explain this!”

“_I’d like for you and I to go romancing_”, Freddie Mercury’s voice sang, now unbearably loud.

“Okay, fine, I’ll tell him!”, Crowley screamed. “Just SHUT UP!!” 

The music stopped abruptly and Crowley turned to look at Aziraphale for the first time since they entered the car. 

“You’ll tell him? Tell him what? Who’s ‘him’?”

“You are. I was talking to the car.”

“You were talking to the-“

“Yes. It’s sentient. And an asshole, but that’s not what’s important right now. Like I said, I have something to tell y-“

“Your _car _is _sentient?_”

“Yes! I just told you that that wasn’t important, will you focus?”

“Crowley, cars can’t be sentient.”

“_I_ know that, but it seems like this one didn’t get the memo” he said, gesturing to the dashboard. “And that still isn’t the important part. I have to tell you something.”

Aziraphale was still very much caught up on the sentient car-thing, but decided not to ask any further questions about it for the time being. 

“Alright”, he said. “What is it?”

The gentleness of Aziraphale’s voice pulled Crowley into the reality of the moment, reminded him of what he was about to say and what he was risking, and the words got caught in his throat. 

“This is crazy”, he said instead. “This was never how I wanted to tell you…” He waited for Aziraphale to interrupt him, to ask more questions, to coax it out of him, but the angel remained silent, patiently waiting for his confession. 

“Angel. I-“ he had to break eye contact, he couldn’t stand it. When he glanced away, Aziraphale gasped softly. Crowley looked up at him again, and his blue eyes were wide.

“Angel” he started again. “I like you. No, not like. I- I…”

Aziraphale grabbed his hand.

“I know. I love you too.” 

Crowley was totally flabbergasted, but he managed to spit out a weak “You what?” 

“I’m in love with you.”

A few moments passed before Crowley spoke again.

“Damn. I guess I had nothing to worry about then”, he stated. 

Aziraphale laughed. 

“No, I suppose not.”

“So… what d’you say we make this dinner a proper date?”

“Sounds lovely.”

As they drove off, the car radio started itself again. 

“_Ooh love, ooh lover boy…_” it sang. 

“I hate you”, Crowley said, but he didn’t mean it. He wouldn’t trade that car for anything.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
Please leave a comment if you liked it, they make my day!


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